


On Chaotic Wings

by briaeveridian



Series: Modern AUs [10]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is awkward, F/M, Implied hea, One Shot, Rey POV, Rey is a college student, Soft Ben Solo, Star Wars Modern AU, ben is..., just fluff, nothing else, rey is awkward, well you'll see, why do i love making them SO AWKWARD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29665560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaeveridian/pseuds/briaeveridian
Summary: Rey is late for a tour that's paramount for completing her research paper. When she discovers the subjects she's supposed to study are missing, she concludes her luck couldn't get any worse. That is until she stumbles upon a helpful volunteer with a surprising ability.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Modern AUs [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918042
Comments: 31
Kudos: 81





	On Chaotic Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I come to deliver fluff for the sake of fluff alone with no qualifications or excuses 😌
> 
> For a wondrous and lovely piece of art by @thisisartbylexi [click here](https://thisisartbylexie.tumblr.com/post/645067094330900480/briaeveridian-wrote-an-adorable-little-one-shot). ^still geeking out about it^

_I’m late. Of course._

It’s already midmorning when Rey opens the door of the building. After sleeping through her alarm and having car trouble, she figured it was precisely her luck to hit every single red light on her way to the conservatory, which sits clear across town. By that point, she wasn’t surprised when there was no nearby parking.

If she were attending a more prestigious university that specializes in biology, then perhaps on-campus perks would include a lepidopterarium for students who require opportunities for up-close interactions with butterflies. But she could never swing tuition at a place like that and her track record with scholarships wasn’t as high as she’d always hoped. So a butterfly house that’s associated with the natural science museum is the best she can get.

Checking her phone, Rey notes that she is exactly 65 minutes late for her personal guided tour. _Maybe it’s for the best. I’d rather not get stuck all morning listening to a boring but enthusiastic volunteer who is obsessed with bugs but lacking in social skills._ She adjusts her ponytail and follows the sign directing her down a hallway on the right.

Her objectives include studying at least four different butterfly species, taking copious notes, hoping that sufficient data can be collected to support her paltry research question, and getting the hell out of there for some much-needed food. Already she’s dreaming of the sandwich she’ll pick up from her favorite spot. Finn knows just how to make that tuna melt, though he always makes it clear how disgusting this order is and always will be. He gives her trouble frequently, in fact, on any subject. Luckily, she has thick skin and knows how much he loves her.

 _But it is a good thing we don’t have any classes together. Living in an apartment is enough for me,_ Rey thinks with a fond smile. She’s not sure how she wound up with the hodgepodge of friends she did. The group is their own unique and vibrant garden, each one contributing something rich and vital to the whole.

So even when they’re making fun of her unusual preferences and habits, she’s grateful. And she takes every opportunity to make fun of them, as well. _What satisfying reciprocity,_ Rey thinks and smiles, tugging at the door to the butterfly room. 

At once a wall of humidity smacks into her. 

“Good grief,” she mumbles. She inhales the tepid, damp air and quickly shuts the door behind her, to keep whatever scurrying, darting wild things that inhabit this bright and steamy habitat from escaping.

It’s a jungle inside, not that Rey has visited one of those ecosystems, despite how much she longs to. Layers of plants create an exuberant backdrop. The building arches high above her to allow the indoor trees sufficient vertical growing space. She hears the rush of a waterfall somewhere beyond her view. Ferns and palms stick up and out at various angles, all shades of green that immediately put Rey at ease. Angiosperms crowd the room, with a full range of pigments and flower patterns selected for a diversity of pollinating species. 

Rey acclimates to the space and exhales serenely. _I wonder how often I can come here?_ As a botany specialist, Rey finds the plant world engrossing. Plants, both quiet and resolved, focus solely on the task at hand. They don’t waver, don’t lose hope. No matter the circumstance, they always keep growing, _reaching_ upward.

That’s what Rey aspires to, as well. The fact that they are also beautiful and fascinating helps. Her friends tease her about how many plants she crams into the shared apartment. But beyond their joking banter, she knows they welcome the soft touches of verdant life. _You cannot have a home without plants,_ her adoptive mother once told her. Rey agrees.

She notices a particularly voluminous monstera. The leaves are slick from wetness, dark green chlorophyll that tugs in the light and transforms it elegantly. She cups a variegated leaf, in awe of the mutation that causes the foliage to split in this specific pattern. The symmetry enthralls her.

Next, her eyes are drawn to a bird of paradise with flashing orange flowers that fan out severely. It reminds her why she’s here. _Oh right. Butterflies._

She glances around slowly, tracking any trace movements. Several minutes pass and Rey cannot spot any tiny flitting bodies. She visits several flowers that should be providing nectar for at least one creature, but each bloom is vacant. _Where the hell are they?_ Anxiety starts a steady drip inside her.

Dr. Kenobi’s research papers require a certain level of detail that she will not be able to manufacture from books and internet research. Rey wrinkles her nose in frustration. _My bad luck continues, it seems. All the blasted butterflies have disappeared._

She approaches the waterfall as a last-ditch effort to locate some winged creatures. Butterflies prefer still water to drink, to avoid drowning. Rey figures the waterfall’s primary function is to maintain humidity levels in the enclosure. _Or maybe the department got a grant and they didn’t know how to spend all the funds._ Rey smirks.

Based on the noise, Rey assumed the water feature would be bigger. It’s barely four feet high, circulating water from the rounded pool back up to the top of the layered descent. The water spills down the stony levels with fervor. On the surface of the pond float multiple variants of Nymphaeaceae, each lily pad swaying slightly from the gusto of the falls. It’s extravagantly peaceful.

But still no butterflies.

Rey growls and rubs her face. “What am I going to do,” she whispers and sinks onto the rounded edge of the pool. She keeps her head hidden in the crook of her arm. After a little while in this position, Rey decides to cut her losses and find some food.

That’s when she hears a muffled noise, a barely audible scrape, followed by a humming rustle sound. Intrigued, Rey stands and leans to the left to the backside of the waterfall. There’s a shadowy corner that holds a mound of something. And on top of it are dozens of butterflies, of different colors and patterns, all sitting tightly packed.

Rey gasps. The butterflies react in a wave of movement, then quickly settle once more. She sneaks forward on her tiptoes, shoulders comically raised and elbows bent. Her head tilts further and she spots a large tennis shoe protruding from the pile.

Jolting for a moment, Rey realizes that the hill in front of her is a human. And that, bizarrely, the butterflies are resting upon this human. She crouches again and walks closer, determined to know more about this bewildering phenomenon before the human wakes up. Rey estimates ten butterflies sit on the curve of the human’s head, while many more nestle on the shoulder, ribcage, hip, and legs. And one sits on a revealed finger.

She kneels nearby, slowly enough to not disrupt the butterflies too much, and starts studying the scene. The person has dark hair, curled by the damp. She inspects the patch of face that can be observed and concludes it’s a man. _Which makes sense because he is massive._ He rests on his side, covered by a jacket. Embroidered on the navy fabric she can see a volunteer label and a name.

 _Oh. He waited for me so long he ended up falling asleep._ Rey finds herself smiling, because it doesn’t make sense that this would happen, and yet it is occurring in front of her. The man looks remarkably relaxed, the butterflies naturally matching his repose. 

Nothing from her studies could explain this, except perhaps that he covered himself in sugar-water.

 _But why would he do that?_ Despite her previous desire to avoid human interaction, Rey feels an impulse to meet this slumbering insect whisperer. It’s a genuinely confusing compulsion but she can’t think of many risks. _Beyond him hiding a lightsaber under there or something._ She chuckles inwardly. Meanwhile, the need to meet him escalates.

Rey’s not sure how to wake him up without causing a ruckus for the butterflies. She inhales slowly, then lowers herself onto the floor and holds her breath. From this proximity, she can see the man’s pronounced features and a smattering of freckles and birthmarks. She has an absurd urge to push the hair from his forehead that she shoves down violently. 

_Don’t caress strangers faces, Rey,_ she silently reprimands.

Pursing her lips, she finally reaches an acceptable course of action.

“Ben,” she says faintly and brushes her fingers to the back of his hands. Only one butterfly wiggles its aggravation and wisps away. His hand is warm under her fingertips. She’s vexed to find her heart beating faster, too. “Ben,” Rey murmurs again, this time a little louder. 

His head twitches slightly and a little groan escapes him. Unintentionally, Rey starts smiling like a fool. _I didn’t know it was possible to sleep so ATTRACTIVELY._ She feels her cheeks redden, her throat turn dry.

Then, his hand gingerly flips until his own fingers sleepily entwine with hers. It’s intimate, habitual, as if he _knows her_ and this is simply how he wakes up every day. He makes another contented noise, eyes still shut, and the butterflies ripple upon him. 

Rey freezes, uncertain what is currently transpiring, and realizes she has let this peculiar situation go too far. But the warmth of their fingers woven together nudges something inside her, something dormant for a very long time. Instinctively, she pulls her fingers away to stop it.

She clears her throat and considers not using his name this round. Poking at his leg gently with the tip of her sandal, Rey tries a third time. “Hey, wake up.”

That’s when his eyes snap open.

The man’s head lifts in her direction, startled, causing more than half of the insects to take flight. He looks dazed. Rey stares, unable to move. Eventually, his eyes fall upon her. After several languid blinks his expression shifts from bewilderment to shock to intense mortification. It would be cute if she didn’t also share that feeling.

He comes to a seated position and the remaining butterflies explode in a cloud of color and furry. Rey scuttles farther away. She can’t see Ben through the shifting wings.

“Uh, who are you?” His voice comes through the chaotic kaleidoscope.

“Sorry, I’m Rey. I know I’m late…”

Then the critters clear and Rey meets his eyes. “Rey, right,” he breathes, still sitting on the floor. One of his knees is up to support his elbow. He’s wearing a short-sleeved dark green shirt. _My favorite shade,_ Rey thinks absently.

“I, uh...” His brow furrows in horror, hand shooting to the back of his head to unconsciously fumble with his hair. “Did I do something--” A blistering red tint reaches from his cheeks to his ears. To her chagrin, Rey’s eyes dip to the v-cut of his shirt where a similar hue blossoms. She tears her gaze away from the exposed skin and silently berates herself.

Without anything else to do, Rey pours her agitation into a prolonged ramble. “No, no, it was weird of me to wake you. I’m sorry I was late. I couldn’t find any butterflies so I just wandered around, assuming you’d left. Then I saw you and you looked so charming just covered in--” She stops herself, stricken. A few butterflies hover above them, ready to descend when they feel safe to do so. 

_Maybe he signals them. I don’t know how the hell this works. And WHY any of it is happening._

“Oh, yeah, they do that.” He covers his face to rub away the last of the sleep. “Charming, huh. That’s not what most people say. A medical mystery, human oddity, _ancestral curse._ ” Ben moves to stand sluggishly. He still looks embarrassed, which endears him to Rey further. 

A thought seems to occur to him abruptly. “You said my name. Or someone in a dream did.” His gaze grows fuzzy and shifts away. After a moment he snaps back to the present with a fresh coat of self-consciousness covering him. “Not that you were in my dream. Obviously, I’ve never met you before so there’s no way I could dream of you. The only reasonable conclusion is somehow you know my name. How do you know my name?” 

Rey laughs at the overflow of words and gestures at his jacket, which lays on the floor. “You’ve got a name tag.”

Ben stares at her, then at the jacket. “Okay, that makes sense. Um, I don’t know how to recover this interaction. Let’s just give up and call it a day.” He grabs the garment and starts to shuffle away, a herd of butterflies swarming above him. Rey follows.

“Look, I know I disrespected you, wasted your time. I had an awful morning. But I _really_ need to work on my paper. And you clearly have a way with them. Can I just… watch you for a bit? You can walk around, do your normal thing...” It’s a distressing request, having just watched him _sleep,_ but she’s desperate. He seems to hear the shake in her voice and turns around.

For what feels like ages he doesn’t speak. The skin under his eye twitches from the apparent tumult inside him. “I didn’t… creep you out? I’m pretty sure I made some kind of noise and _touched_ you.” The words barely make it through his mouth before he slams his lips into a tight line.

Rey feels her heart constrict. She tries to shrug nonchalantly but it’s difficult to manage when a fiery excitement is singeing the edges of her focus, threatening further conflagration. _Whatever this is, I’ve never experienced it before. It’s freaking me out._

Her delay makes him shake his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with people. I’ll set you up with another volunteer.” The butterflies spike and soar around them, picking up on his agitation.

“I touched you first,” Rey blurts. She swallows, afraid her eyes might start watering from the excruciation of this moment. And yet, she doesn’t want him to go away. She’d rather be stuck in this debilitating blunder of a first encounter than anywhere else. 

Grasping for something to say, Rey juts her chin at him. “It’s like they pick up on your mood. They’re… in sync with your emotions.”

By now the color has drained from his face. _He wasn’t lying. This man really is bad with people._

His head shakes a little in affirmation. “I can’t explain it. But it started when I was a kid. People made fun of me, said I couldn’t possibly make any actual friends other than insects.” Ben pushes mildly at the mass around his head. Several of them come to rest gracefully on his hand.

“It’s incredible,” Rey mutters, absorbed by the blue organism resting on Ben’s index finger.

He snorts. “I guess.” Unexpectedly, he walks toward her, butterfly outstretched. “This one’s my favorite. _Morpho menelaus._ “ Ben is close enough to touch and her breath hitches uncomfortably.

“Named after the Greek myth,” Rey adds without intending to.

Ben looks at her approvingly. “That’s right. I like the irony of it. A small, delicate creature named for a mythological warrior. It reminds me that even the largest beings can have fragile parts. That the tiniest of beings can be warriors.”

Rey’s not looking at the iridescent azure wings anymore. She’s transfixed by the giant of a man cradling it, while countless others fly around them. It’s a whirlwind of color and pattern. She suddenly appreciates butterflies a lot more.

Captivated, he adjusts the insect closer to himself, lips parted and warm eyes swimming. But then he remembers she’s there and nearly drops his hand. Abashed, he clears his throat.

“So what is your paper about?” The words come out stilted. They shake Rey from her stupor.

“Anything, really. Comparing and contrasting at least four tropical insect species. I was thinking about exploring the way each species uses coloration to attract mates…” He’s staring at her intently and her heart descends into her torso in a most dramatic fashion.

“That’s a good idea. I can help with that.”

Rey is relieved to see how calm he is now. Like the hurricane of shame passed on to another unfortunate victim. Even still, some of the butterflies have given up landing on Ben and ventured to flowers. Others reside resolutely on his shoulders and head. 

“Can I take your picture?” Rey hears herself ask the question distantly. _Now I’m possessed. That’s great._ A gurgling laugh threatens to erupt, forcing Rey to slap a hand over her mouth. “That’s not a normal request. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Ben replies. She’s delighted to note the quirk in his lips. “I mean, yeah it’s not normal but I don’t mind. I’m used to being considered a freak show.”

Rey squints at him, alarmed to see he’s being honest. And it somehow doesn’t bother him. She feels defensive for him. “I don’t think you’re a freak show. You are…” She shrugs, at a loss for words, and takes out her phone. “This just feels like a significant moment.”

Ben clears his throat but she wouldn’t describe him as displeased. In reality, she doesn’t know him yet, but he seems quite the opposite. Elated, maybe… _Eager._ She fears the fluttering insects have taken up residence inside her. 

“Okay. Then we talk about butterflies.” He glances around, perhaps signaling that the insects can alight on him again. They do.

She brings her phone up between them, hoping it properly shields the mind-boggling joy erupting from her like pistons. He fills the frame so entirely the minute butterflies are lost. But there’s a giant elephant ear drooping behind him and the light makes the space look rich and full. She takes several photos as he stands there, minimally abashed at this point.

When she lowers the device she feels curiously confident, a sensation that could be dangerously addictive. “How about we get some food first? After that, we talk about butterflies. _Then_ we expand our definition of ‘butterfly kiss.’”

The grin this elicits from Ben takes her breath away. She matches it automatically, feelings making her muscles work in happy tandem, and she steps forward. When only a few inches separate them a handful of butterflies slip past her face and find seats on her body. Their wings tickle in the most tender way. She laughs.

Ben laughs too and the air swoons from the sound. “Deal. Though it might take a while to remove all of your new companions.”

**Author's Note:**

> ✨Thank you for reading ✨ 
> 
> I love Ben Solo and the Bug Hunters more than most things!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://briaeveridian.tumblr.com/) where my SW obsession lives aggressively.


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